


Come Full Circle

by Denzer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Car Sex, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Established Kylo Ren/Rey, Established Relationship, F/M, Leia Organa Ships It, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Relationship Breakup, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, POV Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer
Summary: Ben hasn’t done this since he was seventeen and hanging out with the wrong crowd, with his fathers' car and a desperate need to prove himself. But he needs to prove something now and this is all he has.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 69
Kudos: 193





	Come Full Circle

Rey is breathing hard when the car comes to a stop. The edges of her fingers are disappearing into the seat cushion and her knuckles are white. It’s not that he’d wanted her to stop talking, exactly. He loves her voice, how she explains things in a circle so there’s no way to look at it without seeing her point. 

It’s just that he’s numb, had been from the moment she’d whispered those words. 

“Ben, we need to talk.” 

It’s still there, the sudden weighted drop that’s veering into panic and, if he hears any more of this, there’s a chance he might start shouting, or worse, cry. He can never find a way to argue with her that doesn’t make him sound like an asshole and his customary silence is worse. 

He’d checked the time on the dash when she first started talking, and again after twenty-seven minutes. If anything, she was only ramping up. They wouldn’t work, him and her, she tells him. She’s too involved, swept up in him, certain that such a fierce thing will end in a burst of flame. (He burned up two minutes after they first met, but saying that wouldn’t help). Her friends are complaining that they never see her because all she wants to do is to come to his apartment after work and forget the world exists until she has to get up again (That’s all Ben wants too but he doesn’t think it’s a problem). She’s losing track of herself, of her career and her hobbies, all the little parts of her that make up who she is, but he’s still doing everything he always did. (He never did anything until he met her. HIIT and Netflix hardly count as hobbies). 

He doesn’t say anything until thirty-eight minutes have passed. By that stage, it’s after midnight. They’re nearly home and she’s getting quieter. Fear is tumbling over itself in his chest, burning in his throat. She’s almost convinced herself, and he’s yet to open his mouth. 

There is a small, round, black velvet box eating a hole in his slacks' pocket and he can fix this, he’s sure, once he gets her inside. But his hands tighten on the wheel when she gives him her final thought. 

He recognizes it at once. All the bluster is gone and here is the core of it, the real fear, hidden under all the small things that matter so little she can say them loudly. 

“You’re always so calm.” She’s picking at her cuticles, hands held low in her lap, “You don't feel it. Us. Not as much as I do.”

They’re almost past the car-park entrance, broken neon sign flickering. He turns the wheel so fast that she has to reach for the grab handle. She’s staring at him, open-mouthed. He can see her in his peripheral vision but he won’t look, glaring out the window until they reach the middle of the empty, spotlight-pooled lot. He hasn’t done this since he was seventeen and hanging out with the wrong crowd, with his fathers' car and a desperate need to prove himself. But he needs to prove something now and this is all he has. 

He uses the handbrake to spin them in circles until he feels dizzy and Rey stays silent the entire time. Six rounds at least, maybe seven. When he brings the car to a rocking stop, he’s not sure what to do next, what he’d even been trying to say. Until he looks at her. 

“Is your heart beating too fast?” he asks, frowning hard. 

She’s outraged, too shocked to frown back at him. But her voice is angrier than he’s ever heard it. 

“Yes, Ben!”

“Do you feel completely out of control?”

Her mouth closes firmly, eyes a little less wide than before, and her voice is breathier when she responds. 

“Yes.”

“Are you certain that at some point, you’re going to get hurt and there is nothing you can do to stop it?”

She pauses before she answers, timid, like this is the moment where he’ll crack the earth open beneath her and she’ll fall and fall.

“Y-Yes.”

He turns more in his seat, brain finally catching up with what his body had been trying to say, and leans toward her.

“That’s how I feel, all the time, around you,” he wishes he could stop frowning but the end of this is too close and Ben can’t get past the terror of it, “I’m not calm. Not even close.”

He hears the click of her seatbelt, her shuddering exhale, and he’s reaching down to slide his seat back so she can climb into his lap. The handbrake should make it awkward but Rey is agile, hooking her knee high so she can twist to straddle him. For a moment, he thinks she just wants to be close, to let him comfort her and himself with sheer proximity. But then her lips are on his neck, trailing up to his jaw, pressing so hard he can feel the cold smudge of her nose under his ear. (He knew he should have turned the heating up). And she’s grinding in that familiar, perfect loop that brings his hands to her hips, slipping over the silky skirt he can’t quite catch to pull higher. 

He can sigh into her mouth, now, breathe a little easier. He's subtly widening his knees because the box is still in his pocket and if she moves to the left, she’ll feel it. Ben should have asked her as soon as Han had handed him the ring. Instead, he'd watched as his father pulled the box from the back of his sock drawer with a furtive squeeze before he’d taken Ben’s hand and placed it in his palm, curled his fingers around it, strong and sure. 

“She would have loved her.”

Ben couldn’t speak. He had nodded and dragged his free hand over his mouth to hide the tremble there. He’d shoved the box in his pocket and had gone back out to Rey on the porch. She'd been sipping the last of his father’s terrible cocktails, bare feet on the railing to help push the swing as she watched the sunset. He should have done it then, but he’d wanted more, for her. 

Rey’s wiggling, trying to wedge her knee comfortably between the door and the seat. This is happening, he can tell by the concentration that draws her eyebrows together, the determined short movements that he has no choice but to be swept along with. (He’ll always go along with this, wherever and whenever she wants.) Ben jams the button for the seat recliner. The slow whirring as it drops back almost makes him laugh. She has one hand braced on the head-rest behind him and the other reaching for his belt, tugging, sharp and insistent. The danger has passed and he is light-headed with relief, with the sudden flip of fear to arousal. 

“Rey,” he says, and this time, his voice is not shaking quite as much, “I love you.”

She laughs, sort of. It’s a watery thing, a choked sound that he can’t focus on because she’s hiking her skirt up over her hips and it hits him again, they’re really going to do this, right here in a public car park. He lifts his head and shoulders to check for security cameras but Rey pushes him back down. He fights it for a second, unmoving and blinking at her small hands on his chest, then lets her shove him into the seat. 

“Don’t move,” she tells him, opening his trousers, shimmying them down over his hips, and every muscle in his body tenses. If she feels the box, she doesn’t know what it is because her hands come straight back to the waistband of his boxers, cool fingers curving, “Tell me what you love about me.” 

Ben has to take a deep breath when she pulls his cock free. He’s already half-hard and she’s touching herself with her free hand, leaning back against the steering wheel so he can watch her circle two fingers over the pale pink lace of her thong. Her knees grip so tight on the seat that he can feel the press of it on his thigh. He wants to pull her forward, to slide the fabric away and tease her clit with the tip of his cock until her whimpers reach that breath-holding stage that means she needs more. But she told him not to move, and somehow Ben knows it’s important to do exactly what she says right now. She’d asked him a question and he shakes his head to concentrate on it but still can’t look away from where her fingers are moving.

“I love how you hum when you don't know you’re doing it.”

He winces. That wasn’t the greatest line to lead with but she’s cupping his balls and it’s hard to think straight. She laughs, stronger this time, and takes her hand away from him to brace against the armrest so she can lean forward, kiss the corner of his mouth. Ben tries to remember not to move when she trails her mouth to his ear and whispers. 

“I don’t hum. What else?”

She sits back up and licks her palm. All the thoughts fly from Ben’s mind like ticker-tape as he stares at her slick skin. 

“I love that you burn everything you try to cook,” he mumbles flatly, “even ready meals -  _ ah-ah-ah _ ...” 

Her hand grips tight around the base of his dick and she gives him a smirk when his eyes widen and his hips tense.

“Shit, fuck, you’re a great cook, Rey,” he tells her quickly and she takes the pressure off and starts to pump gently, “Fucking Michelin-star.”

She laughs again then quietly says, “Something real, Ben.”

There’s pulling in his chest. Does she really not know? Has he never told her? He spends half his time wondering how he got so lucky, but he can’t remember if he’d ever said that out loud. It’s all there, right at the front of his mind, so close at hand that he doesn’t have to reach. Could she really not see it? 

“I love how fiercely you care. You cry so easily because you  _ feel  _ it. Even when you’re mad, you’re loyal. You still showed up at Poe’s exhibition even though you wanted to punch him and you’d fight anyone who - ”

Rey corkscrews her hand around the head of his dick and Ben has to stop talking, his train of thought steaming away from him on a spiraling track he can’t follow. Her fingers have slipped under the fabric of her underwear, the outline of them moving over her clit and he almost reaches out to move the thin strip of lace before he remembers himself. 

“I love that you sleep with your hand on my chest. Sometimes, when I wake up and you’re not there, I can still feel it.”

She moans, a small high sound, and his cock pulls in her hand. 

“You make everything brighter, easier. Nothing is as difficult when you’re with me.”

His fingers are pressing hard into his thighs and if Rey keeps touching herself, Ben’s going to have to sit on his hands to stop himself reaching for her. 

“Fuck... Everything, Rey. I love everything about you.”

Her eyes are on him and she shifts so quickly that his breath comes out all at once. She slides onto him, faster and deeper than he thought she could, and her hand is moving quicker but he can only tell by the shaking of her skirt because it’s slipped down over her wrist. He can feel how close she is, the urgency of it, wants to watch it happen and feel it too.

“Let me move my hands,” he’s not above begging, “Please.”

She’s rolling her hips, so ready for him that she’s not concentrating on what he’s saying anymore. Her face has that tension she gets when she’s chasing it. She’s whispering to herself, like she’s trying to convince herself and it hurts because she should already know. He should have made sure of it. 

“You  _ do  _ love me.” 

She’s rolling over him, clenching hard. She’s right there and missing it, reaching for it and slamming down hard. She’s lost to him, not really there, doing this by herself because that’s how she feels and he can’t watch it for another second. He wants to see her thighs shake and then lose all their power, wants to feel her tiny frame folded into him so he can press down on her back and rut this feeling out of himself. Be there  _ with  _ her. 

“Marry me.”

Everything stops. The roll of her hips over him, the rhythmic fury of her fingers, both their breathing. In the silence, there is a slow grating creak of the seat frame as her weight shifts back. 

“What?”

“Oh, shit.” He’s fucked it up. His father’s porch would have been a hundred times better than the front seat of his car during semi-public make-up sex. Rey’s face is frozen at the edge of fear, staring down like he’s making some kind of terrible joke. He breaks the rule she gave him to surge forward and pull her back down, crushing his mouth against her forehead so he doesn’t have to see her doubt. 

When he twists to grab for his trouser pocket, the sharp movement knocks her into the door frame and she yelps a high-pitched curse. The box falls from his hand into the footwell as he jerks back to right her in his lap, rubbing frantically at the side of her head where he can already feel a small bump rising. There’s a sound coming from her, hiccuping and weak. He can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying but she’s not looking at him, tucking her chin so her hair falls forward, and he’s rapidly softening inside her because this could not be further from what he’d thought it would be. 

Han had proposed at 3am after a drunken night out, stumbling in the doorway with a ring he’d won in a poker game and a cheesy smile that had made his mother swear at him and tell him to ask again, sober. Ben had wanted so much more than that for Rey. And then he remembers. Leia, telling that story. Fond smile and soft elbow dig and short barking laugh. And suddenly, Ben is calm. 

“Marry me, Rey.” 

His dick recovers fast when she clenches tight. He leans down to sweep the floor, finds the box by his foot. Ben puts the whole thing in her hand, doesn’t even open it so she can see what he’s offering her. But she’s nodding, sniffing, clasping it to her chest. 

“That’s a yes?” So eager, dipping his head to peek at her face, wanting her to look at him so badly that his hands come to her jaw. She tilts easily for him, eyes wet and ferocious, as if daring him to take it back. 

“Yes.”

Ben’s not sure what comes over him, how he could flip so quickly from fear to fervor but his arm comes around her back, tightens so she’s pulled down onto him. There’s the rush of her breath on his cheek and he’s kissing her too roughly, too messily but he can’t rein himself in and she’s meeting him, right there where he’s losing control. His free hand shoves between them so hard that Rey has to hollow her back to give him room, her arms wrapping his neck. He can feel the box on his shoulder, digging as she clings to him. She said yes. 

Rey's feeding a slew of small, encouraging sounds into his ear and h is fingers know what to do, how to bring her where she needs to be. He's moving, tilting his hips up and pressing her down. He’s so focused that it’s a surprise when she starts to rock forward so he can reach deeper, opening her knees so her clit pushes into his fingertips. 

She’s whispering now but it’s just the same word over and over and he echoes it until the car is filled with the sound of both of them, agreeing. 

_ Yes. Yes. Yes.  _

It’s utterly flawed and entirely perfect, how her body tenses as she comes and he uses it to finish, dragging her down in swift jerks, groans muffled into her shoulder. It’s not their best sex, nowhere close, but it still feels more intimate than anything they’ve ever done, like he’s somehow more inside her now, leaving parts of himself to melt into her, to stay there for good. 

She’s definitely crying. He can feel the movement of her shoulders so he holds her tighter, shushing her, leaning back with her body tucked into his chest so he can rock her a little, murmur some more of the things he loves about her. They come easier now.

When the car gets cold, Rey shifts, and Ben is inexplicably shy when she scoots to the passenger seat, smoothes her skirt down. He adjusts his seat in silence, fastens his safety belt. 

“You haven’t opened it,” he tells her, nodding at the box she’s still clasping into her heart. 

She’s smiling, the edge of a tease in the round swell of her lower lip. Had his teeth caught her too hard? She's rubbing at the bump on her temple and he can see that her knee is scraped raw on one side, where the door frame had pressed into it.

“Ask me again, at home.”

(He can fix this, he's sure, once he gets her home.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading my weird, oddly unromantic Valentines Day fic! :-)  
> (V-day is actually a little special to me because it's the day I asked my husband out on our first date - not realising it was Feb 14th... oops!)
> 
> Huge thanks to [RedRoseWhite](https://twitter.com/foxfleur) and [Andrina Nightshade](https://twitter.com/AndrinaNightsh1) for the beta and their wonderful encouragement. 
> 
> Just so you know, kudos and comments jump out of my computer screen, directly into my veins, where they swirl around and make me happy for days so, you know... I'm very grateful for them! hahaha! :-) 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DenzerWriter)


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